Black And Blue [Catherine, Amaranta]

The sound of mashed meat repeated again and again beneath the cold glow of moonlight. She'd taken a look into that resort, alright. Met some patrons. Got herself acquainted. She wasn't too eager to take up any sleeping quarters over there, preferring to move off the shore and sleep in her boat whenever that slumber was required. Though she got a look at the hollows who lurked there, their natures, and a reminder to not slaughter them, she didn't quite expect one to follow her to the bank she'd hitch her boat to, far away from that island, a greedy little creature thinking her weak and hapless.

Mask shards, brain matter, and other chunks of battered flesh laid at her lap as she repeatedly bashed what little of the Hollow's mask was still intact with her bare hands. It's otherwise intact, twitching body would tell any passerby what caused it's death, that perhaps the rest of it didn't fully understand it had died. Bloodied fists covered in organic matter hovered over it's shattered head for a moment, as if thought returned to her wild eyes.

She wanted to be fully awful to whatever was left of this creature - nothing in it was something she'd want. Contemplating ways to further humiliate this corpse, perhaps she should tear it's guts out and tie it upside down on the trees, hung by it's own entrails. The thought brought a feverish laugh from her, as if she wasn't already in a joyful fervor from destroying it so messily.

"What a bore... where is a good hollow when you need one? Useless creatures..."

Entertaining as the resort was - by nature, Amaranta was a woman who reveled in conflict. Little else rarely ever drew her away from that, and Safira's lovely island was of no exception. Here, separated away from the hustle and bustle of festivities, she could thrive in the violence of overpowering and overwhelming whatever crossed paths with her. Of course, that was easier said than done. There wasn't an influx of hollows dancing among the place to begin with.

But this woman, laughing with feverish glee, mutilating a hollow's corpse, incited her attention, prompting her to approach the woman with a grin torn across her bestial features. Nothing about her appearance immediately screamed brutal killer, which made the current sight doubly more amusing to observe. There was a common saying on earth, no? Sights could be deceiving. She wondered what would deceive her about this bloody maiden.

"Someone looks like they're enjoying themselves."

Grey eyes raced to pierce the presence that approached her so suddenly, a small gasping noise coming from her as fists dripping blood tightened. Though it looked like she was in a state of shock, she seemed perfectly aware of her current situation, albeit colored by a messy fog in her brain. Blood was splattered on her pale features, her suit, everything had some degree of blood or scraps of meat decorating it, only complementing her bright orange locks that seemed to glow even beneath a cold light.

"Yeah? And?" She'd speak back, with a tone far too calm for the scene she had engaged with, "He a friend of yours?"

She didn't even wait for an answer, having come up from her sitting position and proceeding to stomp on whatever slush of brain and bones she had been mashing at for twenty short minutes, a crooked grin playing on her face, "Sure was an asshole. Was thinking of jamming his fingernails in his eye sockets."

"And what if he was?"

Responding with a cocksure smile, Amaranta continued to approach the woman closer as she gazed at the grisly collection of blood and meat on the ground. He was no ally of hers if he lost his life in such pathetic fashion such as was being displayed now. No, at the moment, the bloody woman proved a more worthwhile interest in terms of what she could offer. That grin certainly spoke to someone who wasn't quite satisfied with her current kill. Pretending to be mildly upset about the way he was ground beneath her feet, Amaranta stood over the woman, gazing down at her with fierce sapphires.

"Do you kill everyone you consider an asshole, lady?"

Any excuse for conflict worked for her. The deceased creature was merely a cataylst. Or so Amaranta hoped.

Her heel ground into brain matter with a widening smile in response. She was definitely in a mood, the look in her eyes telling that she was far away from this moment, yet savoring every gruesome bit of it. What would be the expression of someone lost, was someone who had stranded themselves in favorable waters. Was this chick mad? Did she want to fight to avenge her stupid friend? It wasn't like Catherine cared all that much, she just wanted to put her frustrations on something else.

"Not really.." She'd say with a hushed tone, looking about in a slow circle until her gaze pressed upon the body before her, "Just nasty animals that think they can have their way, yknow?"

A spiral of green light would precede her piercing a hand into the thing's stomach, having made a few paces to that vulnerable area, a bloody surge coating her hand as it plunged into warm guts that lapped burning sensations upon her skin, "This guy thought he could do whatever he wanted with me. But if you're friends you're free to watch me tie him up with his own intestines."

As if making good on that promise, her hand pulled free a sizable tube of flesh. Though, she tilted her head, "Or maybe it was a girl? I don't know. I don't feel like checking."

"Whoa, you're pretty merciless, lady."

Voicing that comment with a playful air to her tone, Amaranta raised an eyebrow at the phenomenon of energy displayed by Catherine. What manner of human was she? Judging by the outfit, she certainly didn't strike her as a Quincy. A supernatural human, perhaps? No, something felt decidedly different in her energy compared to one of them. Unable to pinpoint her origin specifically, she simply continued to observe the woman, fierce sapphires sizing her up as though she were a predator surveying potential prey.

The lack of defensive posture indicated the woman held no particular inclination to strike her currently. Whatever state of mania she was in, the leonine woman held little interest in striking at her without preparation. No, she merely observed and stepped beside Catherine to poke at the creature's flesh, like a curious feline prodding at something that held its interest.

Wiping a finger along the remnants of the corpse, Amaranta brought the bloodstained finger to her lips to sample its blood. Bleck. Whatever manner of hollow this was, it certainly didn't strike her as tasty, though perhaps that was the result of not having hunted it herself. Turning to the woman with a grin, Amaranta posed a curious question, inquiring mind in full effect.

"Hell if I know. I'm not familiar with hollow gender unless they're built like me - an Arrancar. At any rate, I'll shoot it to ya straight. That pathetic bastard was no friend of mine. I'm merely observing the current source of my interest - which just so happens to be you, lady. What's your name?"

"You're too close."

Her voice was a low hiss of warning, eyes staring daggers into the Arrancar as she'd suddenly cut her question off. Barely a second later would she suddenly move in, a curled fist carried at blinding speeds and force to smash her in the face. Series of thoughts laid behind her wild eyes, of what this woman was doing, of her origin, her intentions, her wants, her needs. But a thought burned in her head, red hot and impossible to ignore:

She's a threat.

The thought itched and ached in her skull until she had no choice but to act on it, and act on it with great fervor. If one punch didn't land, another would come with the same terrifying speed and efficiency, green light weaving around it as her blows came too fierce and fast for a typical eye to understand what was occurring. Heart roaring in her ears and adrenaline guiding her body, she forced this into a full on fight.

Her lips were parted. She thought she was trying to say something. She laughed instead, a horrible laugh of a killer.

The sudden shift from her inert position to aggressive striking certainly would have overwhelmed the average human, but Amaranta neither possessed a typical eye nor was she ever ill-prepared for battle. An impressive tactic if that was her intent, but she was far from one to let such aggression go unanswered.

The mere moment she recognized violence, those muscular limbs of hers roared into motion, deflecting each strike as they now engaged in what was effectively a fistfight. What a sudden turn of events this was. In truth, she has no idea what her intentions are, but ever the playful woman, Amaranta doesn't object to engaging her in combat.

After all, she thrived on conflict. It never needed a reason. It simply needed to be. She would be but another conquest in her mountain of many. To match her pound for pound, the leonine woman shrouds her fists in an orange hue of spirit power, increasing the assault of her fists with unrestrained violence.

"Careful, lady. Don't go growing too bold now. That pathetic excuse of a hollow might have been an easy target, but you'll find that I'm no easy prey."

She didn't care. All that was on her mind was an awful evening and a need to blow off some steam; for an absolute creep this hollow went down far too quickly for her liking, either they were weak overall or their mask was just brittle. There wasn't much thought afforded it, as her new target was right before her; taunting her, getting far too close, savoring her prey like she owned it, it pissed her off. Some sensible part of her knew this opponent was far stronger than her, but she genuinely didn't care - she just wanted to show she couldn't be tread on so easily.

Blurred punch after blurred punch, it felt like she was striking a wall of concrete from how hard and immutable her target felt on her fists. With little thought, she switched tactics, even in her eagerness for violence she inherently understood when something wasn't working. Thus, when the feline Arrancar threw a line of warning, her smaller form's upper half went down low, an enhanced kick lunging directly for her opponent's solar plexus.

Ignoring her warning in favor of striking at her during a window of opportunity elicited a small degree of her respect. On the other hand, one warning is all she planned to offer. Since she chose to ignore it in favor of offense, the bronze lioness could operate without holding back. The impressive blow would connect as the woman intended, but it proved to be little more than a glancing blow, a mocking grunt offered as a reward for her commendable offense.

Following her attack, Amaranta's arm shot forward to seize her leg. Shifting her fierce frame at high velocity, she intended to carry the woman along for a fierce slam to the ground, falling upon her with an elbow to her chest to finish her salvo.

Of course, the strength she was currently employing paled in comparison to what she was truly capable of. Fighting those without a proper state of mind was always tedious, and she found herself wanting to toy with her prey rather than using her physical prowess to murder her at random. Eluding her attack would not dull her aggression. If Catherine slipped from her grasp, she would dash forward at a relentless pace, her aim to force her on the defensive with a flurry of blows.